Web of Deceit
by madeleine68
Summary: Alex is married, and she hasn't seen Olivia in over a year. But when her husband is implicated in a murder, secrets that she's tried her best to keep hidden are in danger of being exposed. THE FINAL CHAPTER IS UP! Please review!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Confession time: I own nothing. ****It all belongs to Dick Wolf.**

**So I started a new story! Yay? This takes place either right after or toward the end of **_**Conviction**_**. It happened, but I took some (read: a lot) of liberties here. Enjoy!**

"Hey, Liv. Have you seen this?" asked Elliot, dropping a newspaper on my desk along with the morning cup of coffee he'd picked up for me.

"Mm." I looked up from the DD-5 I was filling out. "What is it?"

"B3," he said in response.

I raised my eyebrows and flipped the newspaper pages until I found what I was looking for. "Alex got _married_?"

"Moreover, she didn't invite us to the wedding – or even tell us about it," remarked Elliot.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Okay, I know she hasn't returned any of our calls, but she's been out of Witness Protection for almost a year now, and we used to be her best friends!"

Elliot shrugged. "Think there's any point in running a background check on this Robert Durham guy?"

I sighed. "I'm sure she's already done that. She's very careful about these things."

Elliot quirked an eyebrow. "When was the last time she dealt with any of 'these things'? I've never known her to date _anyone _before."

"She dated Trevor," I pointed out.

He rolled his eyes. "For one night. It ended prematurely. Your fault, I think."

I took it personally. "Hey, it wasn't my fault we needed our ADA on the one night out of the entire year she had a date."

"Of course not."

"Liv, Elliot," called Captain Cragen from behind us, coming out of his office. "We caught a case. Vic was raped, sodomized, beaten pretty badly. Found in a dumpster on 52nd Street."

Elliot and I exchanged glances. "Okay," I said, reluctantly dropping the newspaper. I made a mental note to get back to it later. I tossed Elliot the car keys. "You can drive," I said sweetly.

He raised his eyebrows. "Wow. What's gotten into you?"

I grinned. "Don't get used to it."

* * *

The victim was a thirty-year-old blonde, five feet six inches tall, who was strangled after being beaten, raped, and sodomized a few hours before her death, according to Melinda. According to the ID in her wallet, her name was Lenia Walsh. She'd been tortured – aside from being beaten and sexually assaulted, she'd been electrically shocked and she had at least a hundred different cuts and bruises marring her fair skin – Melinda had stopped counting after that.

In her purse, Elliot and I had found a cell phone and a wallet with Lenia's address on it. We made the notification to Lenia's parents, because Lenia wasn't married and we hadn't yet tracked down the boyfriend, if there was one.

Lenia worked at a bank on Wall Street, and the first thing we did was go to interview her colleagues. They all had the same story: she was well-liked, hardworking, and didn't have much of a personal life.

"Well, we struck out there," said Elliot dryly when we finished.

"Miserably," I added. "So what's next?"

"Pull the luds on her phone," he decided. "We'll see who she called last and go from there."

I shrugged. "Might as well."

* * *

The call log on Lenia Walsh's phone showed that the last call she'd made was to a guy named Robert Durham. He'd called her back approximately two hours before her death. "He works with her, apparently," said Elliot. "Remember, he's her boss, but he was out sick today."

I nodded. "Right. We should talk to him."

"Hey," he said, holding up his hand to stop me. "They played telephone tag for the week before her death – no, make that three _months _before her death."

I took the papers from him and flipped through them, furrowing my brow. "Hmm, that's a lot of phone calls. Affair, you think?"

"Probably."

Then something occurred to me and I scrunched up my face. "El, that name, Robert Durham. It sounds familiar somehow. Where have I heard it before?"

"I'll pull his record," he offered. "Maybe he's got priors."

I nodded, but Elliot did a background check and came up with nothing. No prior arrests or convictions, and he was the boss at a prestigious bank on Wall Street.

Then I remembered. "El!" I exclaimed as it hit me. "That's Alex's husband!"

**Hmm . . . so should I continue with this? Review if you think I should.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviews! I decided to continue this one, so enjoy!**

Elliot stared at me. "Are you sure?"

I nodded as fear filled my head. What had Alex gotten herself into? I pulled out the newspaper Elliot had given to me and pointed it out to him. "See, Robert Durham. Wall Street."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "Wow. Okay, let's go pay this guy a visit."

We got in the car and drove to the Durham house – excuse me, the Durham _mansion_. Alex's family had always had money, but this house was absolutely gigantic.

Elliot and I exchanged glances, then we started up the path toward the front door. I knocked, and to my surprise, Alex Cabot opened the door.

The shock registered on her face when she saw me. "Olivia," she murmured, her huge blue eyes darting up to meet mine. Then she noticed Elliot. "Elliot." To her credit, she recovered relatively quickly and asked with an edge to her voice, "What are you doing here?"

"We're –" I began, but I was interrupted by a tall man with dark hair walking toward us.

He rested his hands on Alex's shoulders and I narrowed my eyes when I saw her flinch at the touch. "Who is it, honey?" he asked, kissing her shoulder blade.

"Police," I snapped, flashing my badge. "Mr. Durham, I'm Detective Benson and this is my partner, Detective Stabler. We'd like to talk to you. Can we come in?"

He hesitated. "What's this about?"

"Lenia Walsh," said Elliot sharply. "We can talk here, or we can bring you down to our precinct. Your choice."

He paused for a split second before smiling, a phony smile that didn't meet his eyes. "Come on in," he invited us.

I followed him inside, Elliot at my heels. The mansion was immaculate with tasteful décor, but there was nothing really personal about it. Sure, there were lots of expensive material possessions, but there wasn't one photograph in sight.

He led us to the family room and we gingerly sat down on the couch, trying not to disturb the cushions. Robert looked expectantly at Alex. "Go get the detectives something to drink," he ordered.

I leaned forward and stared at him, appalled at the way that he was treating her but even more appalled at the way she immediately lowered her eyes and scurried out of the room. This wasn't the Alex I knew. It had been awhile, but the old Alex would never let a man order her around like that. "We don't want anything," I snapped, then took a moment to calm myself down. I was furious at the way Robert was treating my friend – well, my _former _friend, but still. "Where were you on Tuesday night, around eleven?" I fired at him, unclenching my fists.

Alex came back into the living room a moment later. She handed Elliot and I each a glass of water and stood beside Robert. No, she didn't sit beside him on the couch; she _stood _beside him with her eyes lowered.

I took a good look at her then, and was concerned to find fading, finger-shaped bruises on the base of her neck. I recognized them for what they were and my heart constricted. I bit my lip to stop myself from asking her about them. She was my friend, but we were here for a reason and that wasn't to rekindle our friendship with Alex. It was to potentially solve a murder. So I crossed my arms over my chest and forced myself to tear my eyes away from Alex. "So Mr. Durham. Where were you on Tuesday night?"

He raised his eyebrows, then took Alex's shoulders and guided her onto the couch beside him, wrapping his arms around her. I noticed the slight trembling of her shoulders and she kept her eyes downcast. I made a mental note to get her alone after we were done with this little talk. We had a little talk of our own that we needed to have, because this wasn't the Alex I knew. Where had the old Alex gone?

Robert cleared his throat. "I was here. Right here, watching the Yankees game."

"Who won?" asked Elliot sharply.

Robert laughed. "Obviously not them."

"Who were they playing against?"

"The Red Sox."

I was only half listening to him. I was watching Alex, who was clearly trying not to cringe as Robert massaged her shoulders. I forced myself to meet Robert's eyes. "Do you know Lenia Walsh?"

He nodded. "I work with her. Why?"

"She's dead," I informed him. "Do you know anything about it?"

He sighed and gave Alex a squeeze. She started to tremble, but then her body stilled, and she looked up at him. He held her gaze for a moment, then turned back to us. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"It wouldn't come to _what_?" I could hardly keep the contempt from my voice.

He looked back at Alex. "Tell them what you did, Alexandra," he said, and though it was meant as an encouragement, it sounded more like a command.

She looked at the ground, then forced herself to look back up and meet my eyes. Her voice was so soft that it was barely audible, and it shook as she murmured, "I killed her."

**Review for chapter three!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning for semi-mature sexual themes in this chapter, and just so you know, I don't believe that BDSM or any similar type of power exchange is abuse as long as it's **_**consensual**_**. In this story, it isn't consensual; hence the classification of abuse.**

I could hardly believe my ears. _Alex Cabot _was confessing to a murder. She couldn't have done it. Alex would never – _could _never – kill someone. Of that, I was certain. But then, why was she confessing to a crime she didn't commit? This Robert had a tight grip on her, that I knew from even the short time we'd spent here. But I couldn't understand how Alex, fiery, passionate, strong, courageous Alex, could let herself get sucked into this kind of situation. My world had been flipped upside down at this.

Elliot recovered first. "Alex, do you realize what you're _saying_?"

She glanced at Robert again, and I noticed his grip tighten, and she slowly nodded.

I stared at her. She knew what happened to murderers. How could she confess to a crime she didn't commit?

"How did you kill her?" asked Elliot.

"I strangled her," whispered Alex. "I went to the office and I asked her if she wanted to meet Robert and I for dinner. She said yes. When she got outside, I took her by surprise, beat her, strangled her, and dumped the body." She looked at Robert, who nodded almost imperceptibly, but I noticed, and it infuriated me.

"You're lying," I said gently. "Alex, she was raped."

"She had sex before she died."

"No, Alex. She didn't. She was raped."

Alex couldn't meet my eyes. "She was into some pretty rough stuff."

"She told you that?"

She slowly shook her head. "I just know."

I left it at that for the moment. "Okay. Why did you kill her?"

"I thought she was having an affair with my husband."

That sounded closer to the truth. "Was she?"

Alex bowed her head, her shoulders hunching as she nodded. "But I forgave him," she said softly. "She seduced him. I understand."

Robert nodded approvingly and gave Alex another squeeze, and she flinched. "I have a wonderful wife. She forgave me for my mistake."

"Are you sure she had a _choice_?" I snapped, then stuck my foot in my mouth. I needed to make sure Alex didn't stick around, because if she did, she might be the next one on Melinda's slab, just because of what I'd said.

"Of course she did," said Robert mildly, kissing the crown of Alex's head. "But she loves me. I'm a lucky guy."

I glanced at Alex, who was sitting paralyzed as he massaged her shoulders. "You are," I agreed, heaving a sigh. "But we'll be back." I turned to Alex. "Get up," I told her softly, trying not to scare her and convey the message at the same time, that I didn't believe this confession but I had to do what I had to do.

Alex glanced at her husband, then complied, holding out her wrists, waiting expectantly for the cuffs.

I just stared at her, surprised. "I don't think there's any need for that."

Alex just stood there, trembling, and I sighed before resting my hands on her shoulders. She whimpered, then bit her lip and didn't say anything else.

I started to lead her out of the house, Elliot at my heels. "Alexandra Cabot," I intoned. "You're under arrest for the murder of Lenia Walsh. You have the right to remain silent . . ."

We put her in the backseat. I wanted to talk to her and find out what I could do to help her, because I knew in my heart that Alex could never kill anyone, but now wasn't the time. I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed that Alex was curled up in a ball, her forehead resting on the windowpane. Her face was ashen and she was trembling. I guessed the gravity of what she'd done was just sinking in.

"Alex," I called. "Are you okay?"

She started and sat up straight. "I'm fine," she said as calmly as she could, but she couldn't keep her voice from quavering.

I didn't really want to have this conversation in the police car; I just wanted to make sure she wasn't going to pass out on us or something.

We finally reached the precinct and I walked around to the back of the police car to help Alex out. She looked a bit unsteady, so I kept a hand on her shoulder, partly so she didn't keel over and partly because that was how I was supposed to treat a suspect – sorry, a perp. Alex was a _perp_ now. Except she wasn't.

Her face was pale and I noticed how thin she'd gotten within the past couple years. I could feel every bone through her shirt.

We put her in an interrogation room and I glanced at Elliot, the message in my eyes clear.

He understood, thank God. "I have some stuff to do. You guys can talk." He clearly didn't believe Alex had done anything wrong either.

"Alex," I said softly as soon as Elliot had left. "Tell me what really happened. What's wrong?"

She avoided my gaze. "I'm sorry I didn't return your calls, Olivia."

I sighed. "Yeah, we're not talking about that. We're talking about why you confessed to a murder I know you didn't commit."

"But I did," she said simply, futilely, with little conviction.

I didn't believe her for a second. "No, Alex. You didn't. Your husband did. I think I know why you're covering for him –"

"No, Olivia." Her voice was cold, sharp, the voice she'd used with perps and scumbag defense attorneys such a long time ago. "You know _nothing_."

"Alex, he's hurting you."

"Not like that. Not the way you think."

"Okay," I challenged. "Then where did those bruises on your neck come from?"

She still couldn't meet my eyes. "It was an accident."

"Uh huh. Alex, we've both heard that one before."

"No, you don't understand."

I wasn't buying it. "What is there to understand?"

She sighed. "Asphyxiophilia."

Well, that was unexpected. I crossed my arms over my chest. "His fetish or yours?"

"Look, Olivia. I really don't feel like discussing my sexual preferences with you."

"Why not? We used to be best friends."

"Um, because it's embarrassing?" She said it as if I was an idiot.

"You've been arrested for _murder_, Alex. When you're in jail, you're going to have to do a lot more embarrassing things."

She didn't even react to that, just sighed and buried her head in her hands.

I felt awful. "I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't mean that."

She raised her head. "His fetish. He likes to play rough."

"Do you?" I hadn't meant it to come out so harshly, but it did anyway, and we both winced.

"No. But he's my husband."

"And you don't have a choice." It wasn't a question and she didn't treat it as one. "What else does he do to you?"

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "He spanks me sometimes. And – and he likes to tie me up. And – I really don't want to talk about it, Olivia."

"If you're not comfortable with it, Alex, it's not okay."

She avoided my gaze. "I'm fine. Are you going to lock me up or not?"

I couldn't understand this. "Not. You didn't do it, Alex."

"Yes, I did!" she insisted.

"Alex, I know you're afraid, but he won't hurt you if you tell the truth."

"I _am_!"

I sighed. My hands were tied here. "You know what? I'm going to get you a lawyer and then we'll talk."

Alex buried her head in her hands and didn't say a word.

**Review for chapter four!**


	4. Chapter 4

I stormed out of the interrogation room, fuming. "She didn't do it! She's protecting that son of a bitch, but we can't _prove _it!"

Elliot looked up from his paperwork. "Whoa, calm down. Novak's getting us a search warrant to search their place. We'll see what comes up."

* * *

We were in Robert and Alex's bedroom an hour later, searching for – well, I didn't know exactly what, but _something_.

"He really has quite a dungeon in his closet," observed Elliot dryly. "I know some people are into kinky stuff, but I never pegged Alex for that kind of –"

"She's not," I snapped. "He is. He forces her. I never thought she'd be one to put up with it."

Elliot sighed. "You know as well as I do that this can happen to anyone."

I sighed, too. "I know. It's just – I feel sorry for her, but I'm angry at her too, because she's going along with this story and she knows she's not fooling us."

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, looky here. This is the perfect dominant's den. Crop, whip, chains, handcuffs, clamps, ropes . . . oh, and a collar. And a leash. Wow." He shuddered. "Liv, look."

"What is it?"

He handed me a stack of pictures, and as I started to flip through them, I felt physically ill. There was Alex, naked, bruised, tied up every which way. And there she was again, a collar tight around her slim neck, a leash hooked onto it. The angry red welts on her back made me want to throw up.

"She was abused, El."

"Good luck proving that. Some people are just into this kind of stuff."

"She isn't. Look at those welts, Elliot. Do they look consensual to you?"

He sighed again. "No. But this isn't what we're here for."

"What are we here for?"

He quirked an eyebrow and handed me another stack of photos. "These."

They were of Lenia Walsh, in the same positions as Alex, except she actually looked like she was enjoying it. She was grinning in most of the photographs, while Alex looked one step away from tears.

"Okay, so that proves they were having an affair. Where's the evidence that he killed her?"

Elliot sighed. "This guy's smart. I have a feeling we're not going to find any. We need to get Alex to recant her confession."

"She's not going to," I told him. "She's firmly under his thumb. I don't know what happened to her, but this isn't the Alex we know. She's broken, and you can see why. She's terrified he'll hurt her. I mean, if she was into this whole submission BDSM thing, I might not agree with it, but I wouldn't make a huge deal out of it. But she isn't. She hates it and she's scared. We have to help her."

"Maybe she'll be safer in prison, at least," he remarked.

I wanted to smack him. "How can you even _say_ that? She's innocent and we both know it!"

"That's not how I meant it," he said quickly. "Look, I know she's your friend. She's my friend too, and I hate this just as much as you do. I just – something about this doesn't sit right with me."

"Yeah, Durham."

"Assuming he did it, what's the motive? Alex knew he was having the affair and either she didn't care or was just too scared to say anything. He had his two perfect subs, a wife and a mistress and he liked it that way. So why would he want to get rid of one of them?"

"Maybe she said she was leaving him."

"No. In all these photos, she looks happy. Alex is the one who looks miserable. What if Alex really did kill her?"

"But what would her motive be, assuming she didn't care or was too scared to say anything about the affair?"

"Why don't we ask her?" he suggested.

"She won't tell us and you know it." I hesitated and thought for a moment. "Okay. We know he at least played an active role because she was raped and his fluids were inside her."

"It might not have been rape. Like Alex said, she liked it rough."

"Okay, fine. But at least he saw her a few hours before she died."

"Maybe they both did it, but he pulled all the strings."

I shook my head. "I still have a hard time believing Alex could ever do something like that."

"Maybe not the Alex we knew," he agreed. "But like you said, she's changed. A lot. And she's terrified of this man."

"And you can see why," I added. "Okay. Let's go talk to her."

**Review for chapter five!**


	5. Chapter 5

We went back to the precinct to find Alex sitting in the interrogation room, just where I'd left her. She hadn't moved a muscle.

I sat down at the table and Elliot sat down beside me. We made eye contact and I hoped he got the message. I cleared my throat and said, "Alex. You didn't kill Lenia."

She sighed in frustration. "You're not _listening _to me. I did!"

"No, you didn't. The forensic report shows that it was a man. Your hands are too small and you're not tall enough."

I was pretty sure she wouldn't fall for it, but it couldn't hurt. And surprisingly, she believed me. She looked at the ground and said quietly, "It was asphyxiophilia gone wrong. He squeezed too hard."

"I don't believe that, Alex."

"But you can't prove otherwise."

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right. "Alex," I said patiently, as if I was talking to a child. "Do you remember what our job is?"

She rolled her eyes. "To keep the perps off the streets and the victims safe."

I nodded. "That's right. So we need to keep you safe."

"I'm fine, Olivia!"

"No, you're not. We saw the pictures, Alex."

The color drained from her face. "What pictures?"

"Of you, tied up, on his _leash_. I saw the welts on your back, Alex. In my book, that's abuse."

"You don't understand. He loves me!"

"That's what they all say. But he doesn't. Let us help you."

"You can't arrest him for a crime when you aren't positive one occurred," she intoned.

I sighed and leaned toward her. "Do you want to know what I think?"

Her baby blues darted up to meet my eyes. "No, I don't, but I think you're going to tell me anyway."

"Lenia didn't want to be his slave anymore and he wouldn't stand for that. He forced you to help him hurt her."

"He didn't _force _me to do anything."

"So you wanted to hurt her?"

"I was angry."

I cocked my head. "The Alex Cabot I know would never hurt anyone to that extent, no matter how angry she was."

"Well, you don't know Alex Cabot anymore."

"That's right."

Elliot cleared his throat. I'd forgotten he was still sitting there. "Alex, you're going to have to tell us what really happened."

"I don't have to tell you anything. Either drop the charges or lock me up."

She probably _would _be safer locked up right now, but we couldn't hold her here just because we wanted to keep her safe. I sighed. "You can go." I rummaged around for my business card. "But Alex, I want you to know that I'm still here for you. You can call me any time if you need _anything_. I mean that. I can't force you to leave him, even though I think you should, but I really don't want to see you getting hurt." I handed Alex the card.

She stared at it, and for one horrible moment I thought she was going to rip it to shreds, but she didn't. She put it in her pocket. "I'm leaving."

I watched her go, helpless to stop her. And as I saw her get into a taxi and drive away, something inside me died.

**Review for chapter six!**


	6. Chapter 6

I went back into the squad room and sat down at my desk, attacking a pile of paperwork with zeal. It was all I could do now.

"So, case closed?" said Elliot, coming up behind me.

I shook my head. "No, case not closed."

"We can't arrest him. Even if he did it, she still confessed, and that's enough reasonable doubt to convince a jury to acquit. Casey will never go for it."

"Alex is being abused," I insisted. "We can't just let that go."

He sighed. "Liv, I know it's hard. It's hard for me, too. But there's nothing we can do."

"I don't want her to end up the next stiff on Melinda's slab!"

"Okay, fine. So what do you suggest we do?"

I thought about it. "I'm going to go see her. Later. I have to talk some sense into her."

He shrugged. "Okay. Good luck, Liv."

I took a deep breath. "Yeah."

* * *

As soon as I got off work, I drove to Alex's house. It was on the opposite side of the city, but I didn't care. I needed to see her.

I rang the doorbell and when nobody answered, I banged on the door until finally a Hispanic woman with a thick accent I couldn't quite place opened it. "Sir and the missus are busy," she said.

I held out my badge and pushed past her. "Police," I said with a glance over my shoulder, then started up the marble staircase in the front hall.

I listened hard and heard something that sounded like leather snapping, and then a whimper. My heart raced at the sound and I followed it upstairs and down the front hall, stopping just outside a door that I assumed led to the master bedroom.

I hesitated for a split second before flinging the door open and calling, "Police!"

Then I surveyed the room, and the sight that awaited me made me feel immediately sick to my stomach. Alex was lying facedown on the bed, naked and shaking, and Robert was hitting her back and legs with his leather belt. She wasn't even crying – just _whimpering_, an almost silent whine that sounded more like a wounded animal than anything remotely human. There were welts and bruises covering her frail body and I could count every bone in her spine. Her head was buried in a pillow and she didn't dare look up at me. But Robert saw me, and he looked furious.

Now wasn't the time to stare at the extent of her injuries. "Robert Durham," I barked. I was beside him in two steps and took the belt from his hands before he could hit Alex again. I pulled his hands behind his back and pushed him up against the wall, cuffing his hands. "You're under arrest."

"For _what_?" he snapped.

Good question. Even Alex had admitted a slightly construed form of consent. Nevertheless, I made my decision. "Assault and manslaughter in the second degree."

"Who did I kill?"

"Lenia Walsh."

"Alexandra killed Lenia Walsh!"

Right. _Alex. _I was an idiot for coming here by myself. I couldn't deal with both of them at the same time.

"No, she didn't," I said as calmly as I could, taking off my sweatshirt and tossing it to Alex, who still hadn't moved from the bed. "You did."

"I assume we'll get to that later. Who did I assault?"

I stared at him. "Are you fucking _serious_?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I have the right to know what I'm being arrested for."

I just shook my head and called Elliot for backup. He said he'd be there in ten, and I turned back to Robert. "You're under arrest for assaulting Alex Cabot."

He laughed in my face. "Tell your friend, Alexandra." When she still didn't move, he turned so he was facing the bed and commanding, "Get up. Hands on your head. Tell her."

The way he was ordering her around – and the way she was obeying without question – disgusted me. And then I noticed the blood trickling down her back. "Alex, you're bleeding!"

She lowered her eyes and murmured, "I asked him to – I misbehaved and I had to be punished."

I shook my head in disbelief. "You know, I'd get it if you were into kinky stuff; that's fine. But when you're bleeding like that and when you've got welts and bruises all over, sorry, I'm not buying it."

"Stay out of my life, Olivia," she said quietly. "I don't need you to be my white knight. I'm fine. Robert is my husband and I love him." She still hadn't made any move to put on the sweatshirt I'd given her, and I was torn between discomfort at that and wanting to help her.

"Liv?" I turned to see Elliot standing in the doorway, looking just as uncomfortable as I felt.

I let out a deep breath in relief that he was here and handed Robert off to him. "Take him down to the precinct," I ordered. "He's under arrest for man two on Lenia Walsh and assaulting Alex."

Elliot wisely didn't argue or ask any questions. He grabbed Robert's cuffed hands with a bit more force than necessary and dragged him downstairs.

Alex sat back on the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. "Screw you, Olivia," she said softly, but there was no real malice in her tone, only resignation and _sadness_. She was broken and I didn't know how to fix her.

**Review for chapter seven!**


	7. Chapter 7

I did all I could do, perching beside her on the bed and draping my sweatshirt over her shoulders for modesty's sake. I knew in the back of my mind that I could just go to her closet – her huge walk-in closet that was bigger than my whole bedroom – and get her something to wear, but I didn't feel comfortable with that. What I really wanted to do was ask her why she'd come back, but I needed to tend to her injuries first. "Do you have any gauze?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

I sighed. "No, Alex, you're not. Put something on and I'll be back in a few moments."

I knew she wouldn't listen, but I was always better at taking action when it came to such situations and the marks on her back were concerning me. I didn't want them to get infected.

I walked out into the hallway and promptly got lost. The house was just too big!

I wandered around for a moment, searching for a washroom, and finally I found one. Rummaging around in the cupboard, I came up with antiseptic and gauze. Good.

Picking up the supplies, I started back to the master bedroom. Alex had on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and I was half daunted and half relieved. Relieved because she was fully clothed and daunted because I'd never seen Alex in sweatpants before. It was so uncharacteristic that it scared me.

"Lie down on your stomach," I said gently, trying to keep my words from sounding like an order. "I'm going to fix up your back."

She glared at me. "Get out of my house."

I sighed. I was trying to be patient, but it was wearing thin. Why couldn't she let me help her? "No can do. Lie down."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "You took my husband away."

"He was beating you, Alex!"

She stood, her bottomless blue eyes flashing, looking regal even through the sweatpants, the welts, and the exhaustion written all over her face should have made that impossible. "Olivia. I want you to leave."

I sat down on her bed and said quietly, "Alex, I want to help you, but you can't keep pushing me away. Tell me what I can do for you."

"You can _leave_," she snapped.

I took her hands and pulled her down onto the bed beside me. "No, sweetie, I can't."

She whimpered, but her protests were wearing thin. "Olivia," she begged. "Please."

I rested my hand on her shoulder and felt bad when she flinched at the touch, but I didn't remove my hand. "Alex, you're hurting right now. You're in so much pain that I can't even imagine and all I want is to alleviate that pain, but you have to tell me _how_. You're my friend, Alex, and I want to help you."

She refused to meet my eyes. "Please, Liv. Please just let me be. You don't know me anymore. My life is different now and you're not part of it."

"Look at me." I waited a moment, and when she didn't, I said it again. "Look at me." When she finally did, I said softly, "You need help, Alex. What he does to you isn't okay. It's not love and I think you know that." And then I saw the blood seeping through her shirt and I sighed. "But right now, we need to make sure your cuts don't get infected."

She snorted. "Who's _we_?"

"Look at yourself, honey. Look at yourself. We've both seen photos of women who were beaten to death by their husbands and you look worse than some of them."

"Aw, thanks."

"I'm just calling it as I see it."

"Tactlessly."

I shrugged. "Perhaps. But Alex, we used to be best friends."

"_Used to be _being the operative phrase."

And then I got it. For some reason, she resented me for our absence. Was this to punish me? I sighed. "Alex, please just do what I tell you. Just this one time and I'll never ask you to do anything ever again. I'm worried about you. You've lost a lot of blood."

She shook her head. "No, I –"

"Alex, the back of your shirt used to be blue, I think. Now it's red. Lie down and let me fix up your back."

Alex sighed, but obediently lay down on her stomach.

I let out a deep breath and gently lifted her shirt, folding the hem back.

She sucked in her breath when the cold antiseptic touched her open wounds, and my heart constricted, but even though it hurt, it had to be done. "It'll just hurt for a moment," I tried to reassure her. "Then it'll feel better."

"I'm not a victim, Olivia," she snapped. "Don't talk to me like that."

Ah. There was the Alex I knew, albeit slightly moodier. "Sorry."

She let me clean each welt and bandage it. She was Alex; brave, strong, unwavering. She didn't cry out even though I knew it hurt; a few whimpers escaped, but that was it. Doing this probably hurt me just as much as it hurt her. Maybe more.

**Review for chapter eight!**


	8. Chapter 8

I finished up, then pulled her shirt back down. "There you go. You're done."

She got to her feet and said grudgingly, "Thanks." But it was more out of politeness than real gratitude.

"I'll take you to your sister's house if you want," I offered.

She glared at me. "_No_. I'm staying here."

I sighed. "Are you sure you want to?"

"I'll wait for Robert to come back," she said stubbornly.

"Alex, you don't get it. He's under arrest for manslaughter and assault."

"Well, the assault won't stick because I won't testify, aside from the fact that it _wasn't _assault, and you won't be able to get a conviction for manslaughter."

"Alex, I don't know why you're doing this. We both know how wrong it is. Please, Alex, let me help you. I don't want to see you get hurt any more."

I guess she could hear the desperation in my voice because she softened and said quietly, "Olivia, he loves me. No one's ever loved me before."

"We do," I told her. "I do."

She sighed. "That's different. The love between friends is different than the love between a husband and a wife."

She was right, but she was also wrong. "Alex, he doesn't love you. He wants to hurt you. He _has _hurt you. So much. Look at yourself, honey." I stood her up and led her to the mirror at the far side of the room. "_Look_ at yourself. The Alex I know would never let anyone hit her because she knows she doesn't deserve it. You're a good person, Alex, and you don't deserve to be hurt. _No one_ deserves this."

She lowered her eyes. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I'm your friend and I care about you and I want to help you. I've got your back, Alex, no matter what."

"I don't need –"

"Yes, you do, sweetie. You do. You've been so strong throughout all of this, but it's not fair to you. He doesn't love you, Alex. He beats you."

"It turns him on."

"That's not an _excuse_, Alex. If anything, that makes it worse. _This _shouldn't turn anyone on. This is what serial killers are made of. This is what bodies at the morgue look like."

"I left that life behind a long time ago, Olivia."

I didn't know what to say to her. Alex was stubborn – that was her trademark quality. She was obstinate to the point of unreasonableness, and while it was infuriating at times – it often felt like I was talking to a brick wall – it was just _Alex_. And as irritating as that was, it was also reassuring in a way.

"Feel free to leave at any time," she said again.

The good news was, I was just about as stubborn as her. "I'm not going anywhere."

She folded her arms. "Yes, you are. This is my house and I'm ordering you to leave."

"Well, guess what, Alex. I'm not you. I don't automatically do something just because someone tells me to."

She flinched as if I'd hit her, and then I felt bad. That was a low blow.

"I'm sorry, Alex. Look, I know this isn't your fault and I can understand why you don't want me involved. You're ashamed and –"

"Don't even _think _about it, Olivia. Don't you dare."

I sighed. "Alex, you deserve better than this. You should have someone who loves you and treats you like a princess."

"He does, Olivia!"

"No, he orders you around, and then he hits you, and then he degrades you and hurts you inside and out."

"You're wrong!" she insisted. "Now _leave_."

"No, Alex. I'm just as stubborn as you are and I'm staying right here."

She folded her arms and glared at me. "You're trespassing. And you're not doing me any favors."

Part of me realized that she was probably right, but I couldn't let this go. Softening my tone, I said, "Sweetie, he was yanking you around on his leash. Literally. You have bruises all over your neck and welts all over your back and bruises all over your legs . . . need I go on?"

I'd pushed too far. There were tears brimming in her eyes and I could see that she was concentrating hard on holding them back. "No one has ever loved me before, Olivia," admitted Alex. "I don't know what it feels like. Maybe this is it."

"No, honey. This _isn't _it."

A fire ignited in her baby blues. "How would _you _know?"

That was low, but I knew I deserved it. "Alex. I'm here because I care about you. That's it." I took her hands in mine, and I wasn't above begging. "Please let me help you. You can come home with me. I have a pullout bed and . . ." I trailed off when I saw the defeated look on her face.

She relented. Finally. She'd put up quite a good fight, but in the end, she'd acquiesced. They all did, eventually. "All right, Olivia. I'm tired of fighting with you."

I tried not to show her the relief that was seeping through my pores at that, but I probably wasn't doing too good a job of it. "We can press charges –"

"That would be risking my career," she said softly, then hesitated before adding, "But Olivia, I do want to be friends again." She managed a wan smile. "Through thick and through thin, right?"

I couldn't help myself. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, trying to keep my tears of relief at bay. When I finally had my voice under control, I stepped back and murmured, "Right."

Then it occurred to me how wrong this was. I was crying and she wasn't. She was just standing there . . . defeated. I'd never seen Alex look so worn out before.

I cleared my throat and held out my hand to her. "Come on," I said softly.

Surprisingly, she took my hand and let me lead her to the car.

I had half a mind to take her down to Mercy General, because she was a mess and I wanted to make sure there wasn't any permanent damage, but I knew that would be pushing my luck.

Alex fell asleep in the car and my heart broke for her. Two tears leaked from her eyes like large, wet pearls. I hadn't known it was possible to cry in your sleep, and I wanted to wipe her tears away, but I held myself back. It wouldn't be right.

**Review for chapter nine!**


	9. Chapter 9

We reached my apartment and I parked the car, hesitating for just a moment before gently taking her arms and whispering, "Alex. Alex, we're home."

Her eyes flew open and she blushed when she wiped her cheek and her hand ended up sticky with tears. "Sorry," she murmured.

I tried to smile. "It's okay. Let's go."

I shouldered her bag and she didn't even complain, just silently followed me up to my apartment.

"I'll make you a cup of tea," I offered, dropping her bag in the front hall. This was . . . _awkward_. "Peppermint?"

She curled up on the living room couch, pulling her knees to her chest. "You don't have to take care of me, Olivia. I'm a big girl."

I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. "Well, that's what you're supposed to do for a guest."

She rolled her eyes. "We used to be best friends. That doesn't quite make me a 'guest.' You used to come to my place and make _me _dinner."

Was that a touch of _nostalgia _creeping into her voice? Okay, fine. "So what is it that you want?"

Alex sighed. "Nothing, Olivia. There's nothing I want from you. Thank you for letting me stay here." It came out stiff and formal, but the emotion was there and I heard it.

I perched beside her on the couch, wanting to hug her but knowing I shouldn't.

She glared at me. "_What_?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. You mind if I sit here?"

She rolled her eyes again. "It's your apartment. Your living room. Your couch. Sit here if you like."

Ah. She was still Alex. That was . . . comforting. "I'm going to shower," I told her, resisting the urge to ask if she'd be okay by herself for ten minutes. "I'll be back in a few." I hesitated. "Make yourself at home. You remember where the DVDs are?"

She nodded and gestured for me to go ahead, propping her head up on her elbow. "Go ahead."

I stripped and got into the shower, letting the warm water cascade down my back. I couldn't help but look at my unblemished skin, smooth and unmarred. My mind flashed back to the welts on Alex's back, and the bruises. I felt downright awful. We'd used to be best friends and I hadn't been there for her when she needed me most. She'd been beaten half to death by a monster and I hadn't even known.

I got out of the shower and brushed my hair into a messy ponytail, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before going out to the living room.

Alex was sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing one of my NYPD sweatshirts, the barrier separating us up once again. This just felt _so wrong_.

I sat down on the other end of the couch and didn't say anything. Honestly, I didn't know what there was _to_ say. She was in so much pain right now and I didn't know how to help her. I didn't know what kind of help she would _accept_.

She glared at me. "Stop it."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. "What?"

"Feeling sorry for me. I don't need your pity."

"Great, because I wasn't."

She rolled her eyes. "_Right_."

I cleared my throat. "You want to get Chinese for dinner?"

Alex shrugged. "Sure."

"Only if you want to."

She sighed. "I'm not that hungry."

I gave her a once-over and realized how much weight she'd lost over the past couple years. She'd always been thin, but now she was bordering on emaciation.

But now wasn't really the time to comment on that. "Well, you're welcome to have whatever you want. You know where everything is."

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch, unsure whether to leave her alone or stay here. This was uncomfortable, but I didn't really want to leave her by herself, although I knew she wanted me to and was just too polite to say so.

"Do you want anything?" I asked, a bit hesitantly. "I could grab a DVD, or I bet if I looked hard enough I could find you a book."

"I'm okay," she said quietly.

"So you just want to sit and stare at the wall?"

Alex shrugged. "I don't need a babysitter, Olivia. Go back to whatever it was you were doing before." But she didn't sound upset, just . . . _resigned_.

If anything could have made me feel any worse, it was that. "Do you mind if I stay here?" Usually, I wasn't so hesitant, but I didn't want to overstep the line. Alex had taken a huge leap of faith and made herself very vulnerable tonight, more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her before. I wanted to make sure she was okay.

She sighed. "Knock yourself out."

I took that as a no and slid closer to the edge of the couch, not daring to get up even to retrieve a book or some paperwork. I didn't want to leave Alex alone. I knew that I was probably being overprotective, but she was here now, and I didn't want to lose her. She was my best friend and I cared about her. I wished I could shoulder all her pain.

Alex was just staring at an almost imperceptible spot on the wall, and I was staring at her, trying to discern what was going through her head right now. I marveled at her courage. I would have broken by now, but she was staying strong, although I was unsure whether it was for my benefit or her own. I thought she shouldn't really feel the need to impress me, but it had been awhile. We'd used to be best friends, but now we were practically strangers.

We just sat there for what seemed like forever to me, until Alex yawned and murmured, "Is this couch a pullout?"

I nodded. "But you can have the bedroom," I offered.

"No, thanks," she said politely, formally, almost as if she'd never known me before.

"Are you sure?" Stupid question. I knew she wouldn't take the bed.

She nodded and got up off the couch so I could pull it out. I made up the bed for her and she smiled slightly. "Thanks. I'm going to get changed."

"We should probably change the –"

"No," she snapped.

"You can't do it yourself, Alex. Don't be silly."

She shook her head again, and I wondered if she was just being stubborn or if she was still ashamed, even though we both knew she shouldn't be.

I sighed, not really wanting to argue. "Fine. Goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight," she echoed.

She went into the washroom and locked the door. I stared at the closed door for a moment before changing into a tank top and sweatpants and climbing into bed myself. I listened carefully, trying to discern exactly what Alex was doing in the washroom. She wasn't showering and she'd been in there for at least twenty minutes. I resisted the urge to go and check on her.

During my internal debate, she came out of the washroom and went into the living room to sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, I lay down myself, but I couldn't sleep. I kept replaying the day's events in my mind, and I was actually _terrified_. Alex couldn't stay here forever (and even if I let her, she wouldn't want to) and I knew there wasn't enough evidence to hold Robert Durham on. We could try to get her a restraining order and a protective detail, but that would only last so long. I couldn't bear the thought of Alex getting hurt again.

**Review for chapter ten!**


	10. Chapter 10

I waited what I felt was an appropriate amount of time before going out to the living room, just to make sure she was okay. I knew in the back of my mind that I was being paranoid, but I'd just found my best friend after such a long time, and I didn't want to lose her again.

Alex was curled up on her side, fast asleep, and I sighed in relief when I saw that. But as I got closer, I saw that her cheeks were stained with tears. I wanted to wipe them away, but I knew that would be too intimate a gesture, so I held myself back.

I perched on the edge of the bed, just watching her for a moment, unsure what I could do for her. I wanted so much to help – I always did – but now, I was at a loss.

The movement startled her awake and she sat up, her baby blues wide with fear, her face ashen. "It's okay," I said softly, wanting to take her trembling hands but knowing I shouldn't, so I just folded mine in my lap. "It's just me."

She shook her head as if to clear it. "Right." She moved away from me, closer to the edge of the couch.

"Are you okay?" I didn't really know why I was asking, because I already knew the answer she would give me, but it was more out of instinct than anything.

"Fine," she said automatically, just as I knew she would. She took a deep breath, then wiped a hand across her face, blushing when she realized she'd been crying. She swiped a hand across her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to remove the evidence of her tears. "I'm sorry." She hesitated. "Was I screaming?"

Oh, she was trying to figure out why I was there. I shook my head.

Alex sighed. "I don't need a babysitter, Olivia. You can go back to sleep."

I was torn between wanting to stay there, with her, but I knew she wouldn't want me to.

Being the lawyer she was, she noticed my hesitation and folded her arms. "I want you to go back to bed, Olivia."

And no one disobeyed a direct order from Alexandra Cabot.

"No."

The shock was evident on her face. She wasn't used to people saying no to her, especially when she commanded them in that authoritative tone. "_What _did you say?"

I suppressed my smirk. "I said no. As in n-o. No."

"I know _what _you said. I suppose the real question is _why _you said it."

"Because you need me." I wasn't sure if that was true, but it sounded right.

She rolled her eyes. "You wish."

I moved closer to her. "Tell me what I can do to help you."

"You can go back to bed and leave me alone."

God, she was _stubborn_. But I knew pushing her any further would be futile, so I just sighed and said, "Promise that you'll wake me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?" Which was stupid because I knew she wouldn't.

She nodded. "Sure." But her voice was an octave higher than usual and I knew she didn't mean it.

My gaze lingered for just a moment, but I finally acquiesced. I nodded and returned to my room.

I couldn't sleep. I listened to Alex tossing and turning on the sofa bed, but she didn't cry. Maybe she couldn't.

And because she wouldn't, I cried for her.

**Review if you want the next chapter!**


	11. Chapter 11

I woke up the next morning to the aroma of fresh coffee brewing. Following the smell, I ended up in the kitchen, where Alex was making me coffee and herself tea. "'Morning," I said.

She jumped at the unexpected sound of my voice, but then relaxed when she realized it was just me. "Good morning." She handed me the coffee.

"Thanks." I took a sip. "Did you sleep okay?"

She shrugged and nodded.

"Did you –"

"Don't do that, Olivia," snapped Alex. "Stop talking down to me."

"Sorry." I picked up a banana and peeled it. "Do you want anything?"

She shook her head. "If I was hungry, I'd make something myself, Liv. It's okay." She made a face. "But you don't actually have all that much to eat. Why is there no food in this house?"

"There are bananas," I pointed out.

She wrinkled her nose. "They're _brown_, Olivia. Brown means rotten."

I glanced at the banana in my hand. "It tastes fine, _Princess_ Alex."

"If it's brown . . . or green . . . or any other color than it was when you bought it, that means throw it out."

I laughed. "Would you like to do my grocery shopping for me?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "You need someone to take care of you."

I groaned. "God, you sound like . . ." I didn't complete the thought, because I actually had no idea who she sounded like. I'd been told this before; I just couldn't remember who'd said it.

She smirked. "If you'd woken up a few hours later, you'd have found your kitchen, living room, and bathroom immaculate."

"Ah, I remember. You and your cleaning frenzies."

We were both silent for a moment in nostalgia. Then Alex said quietly, "Thank you for letting me stay here last night, Olivia." Her words were formal, but there was real gratitude behind them and I heard it.

"Don't mention it," I said, instinctively reaching out to take her hand. "That's what friends are for."

She rolled her eyes. "You still spit out some of the corniest lines." Noticeably, though, she didn't pull her hand away.

We stayed like that for a couple moments, just silently holding hands. It was comforting in a way.

And then came the call.

"Liv," said Elliot, a bit shakily. "We've got a problem."

I glanced at Alex, then sighed, turning my attention back to the matter at hand. "What is it?"

"Durham's dead."

I almost dropped the phone. "_What_?"

"He was put in Riker's overnight. Some guy stabbed him."

"Why?"

"No reason. He was a black guy who wanted to kill a white guy. Durham got to be the lucky one. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Anyway, he's dead."

"Good," I said vehemently. "May he burn in hell for what he did to . . ." My voice trailed off as I glanced back at Alex, whose bottomless blue eyes were questioning and full of fear.

"Tell her," he said with a sigh. "Cap says you can take a day off . . . or a few."

"Thanks, El," I said quietly, then hung up the phone, bracing myself as I met Alex's inquiring gaze.

"What is it?" she asked, trepidation in her voice.

I sighed. "Alex, he's dead."

She stared at me, uncomprehending. "Who?"

I took a deep breath, then stepped back so she'd miss if she took a swing at me. "Robert."

She didn't hit me, though. Her knees buckled and she started to sink to the ground. She didn't say a word.

I reached out to catch her before she fell and held her upright. "Are you okay?"

She pulled away. "Don't touch me," she snapped, her voice laced with venom. "You killed my husband."

"He died in jail, Alex."

"And you put him there!"

"He put himself there. If he hadn't killed Lenia and hurt you, he wouldn't have been in jail in the first place."

"But you're the one who –"

In as calm a voice as I could muster, I interrupted her. "Alex, you're in bad shape right now. I need you to calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down, Olivia! My husband is dead."

I sighed. She was just repeating the same thing over and over, and it wasn't helping anything. I didn't really want to leave her alone, but I knew my presence would only further augment her anger. I knew in the back of my mind that she wasn't really angry at me; she was angry at the world and projecting that anger onto me simply because I was an easy target, but that didn't make it any easier. I needed to remove myself from the situation so we could both calm down. "I'm going to get in the shower," I told her as evenly as I could, although I couldn't quite keep the tremor from my voice. "I'll be back in half an hour."

And I could hear her quiet sobs as I turned to go. They broke my heart, and so I turned on the water, trying to drown out her cries.

**Review for chapter twelve!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I know this one's short, but I don't have a lot of time on my hands and I thought a short but fast update was better than no update at all. Reviews make me write faster!**

When I finished showering, part of me thought I would find Alex gone when I went out into the living room, but I was surprised when I found her still there, sitting on my couch and leafing through old newspapers.

I sat down beside her, close enough for her to notice my presence but not close enough to be physically touching. "What are you doing?"

She moved away from me and didn't answer.

Then I saw the picture she was looking at, the one that was in the paper when she and Robert had first gotten married. They both looked absolutely radiant in the photo and Alex was smiling slightly as she traced Robert's outline on the page.

I sighed. "I know this is really hard for you, Alex, and I'm sorry. I know you're feeling really confused right now. You're happy he's dead because that means he won't be able to hurt you anymore, but then you're feeling guilty and sad that he's dead because you still love him, even though you don't understand how that's possible."

Alex glared at me. "What part of _stop it _is too complicated for you to understand? Do I need to speak slower and use smaller words?"

I took the newspaper from her hands and moved it where she couldn't reach. "We can find you a place of your own. I'll help you. Or you can go back to that house if you like – we can transfer the title."

"Olivia," said Alex in a soft, dangerous voice, enunciating every syllable. "I do not need your help."

I sighed again. "Yeah, honey, you do. You do need my help."

"No, Olivia! I want you to leave me alone."

"I know what you want, but I care more about what you need. You need someone to stand by your side. You need a place to stay. You need someone to listen if you want to talk."

Alex glowered at me, but I could see her starting to break. "You killed my husband. I have nobody."

And then I couldn't help but wrap my arms around her, pulling her close to me and whispering, "You have me."

**Review for chapter thirteen!**


	13. Chapter 13

She let me hold her, but still, she didn't cry. Maybe she was trying to stay strong for my benefit or maybe she just couldn't. She curled up on her side, but she didn't push me away, and I was glad.

I don't know how long we stayed like that for. It could have been three minutes or three hours. But finally she looked up and met my eyes, her baby blues betraying her anxiety. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I told her, gently stroking her hair. I hesitated, then added, "So what are you going to do about the house? You could sell it and get a new place, closer to here, or you could stay there."

She sat up, straightening her spine and clasping her hands in her lap, the flash of vulnerability I'd seen moments before dissipating. "I think I'll get a new apartment. I don't want to be there anymore. The memories . . ." She trailed off.

I nodded. "I understand. I'll help you find a new place if you like."

"Okay," she said, so quietly that I had to strain to hear.

* * *

We went out that day, looking for a new apartment for her. I told Alex she could stay with me as long as she needed. "And I'm always here for you, no matter what," I added.

She nodded. "Thank you, Liv."

We ordered Chinese for dinner and ate it on the couch, watching a movie, just as we used to. Alex was half asleep by the time it was over, and it was endearing in a way, and I smiled as I started to clean up. "You can have the bed," I offered again.

She shook her head and covered her mouth, stifling a yawn. "No, thanks." She yawned again. "Get up. I want to pull out the sofa."

I laughed at the way she was giving orders, more out of fatigue than arrogance. I obediently got out and pulled the couch out for her. Then I braced myself for her reaction and said as gently as I could, "Can I change the dressings on your back, honey? I don't want your cuts to get infected."

She glared at me, then finally her exhaustion took over and she relented. "Okay," she said in a small voice.

I gave her hand a squeeze. "Thanks, Alex."

She sighed and lay down on her stomach on the bed, pulling up her shirt for me, the fight gone.

I gently removed the gauze, trying not to wince at the broken welts on her back in various stages of healing, some caked with dried blood.

She whimpered, tensing when the cool air came into contact with her open wounds, but she bit her lip and didn't say anything. She was so brave, and it made me want to cry.

"I'll be back in a moment," I said softly, running my hand through her hair.

She nodded and tried to relax as I got up and went to get some more bandages.

Alex stayed perfectly still as I fixed up her back, whimpering a bit but nothing more. It seemed to take forever and it hurt that I had to do this. I could feel the tension in her muscles and it hurt that I was making her uncomfortable. But I didn't want her cuts to get infected and this needed to be done.

Finally it was over. I pulled down her shirt and helped her sit up, wrapping my arms around her. "You're done," I said quietly.

She opened her mouth and then closed it, biting down hard on her bottom lip. I understood. She wanted to thank me, but her pride wouldn't allow her to.

"You're so brave, honey," I murmured, holding her close. She let me, and then I figured it was because she was too tired to fight.

I tucked her into bed. She winced as her battered back came into contact with the mattress, but she rolled onto her side and pulled her knees to her chest. "'Night," she murmured.

I sighed, runninf my fingers through her hair. "'Night, Alex."

She curled away from me and I could hear her slight sniffling, and I knew she was holding back her tears, waiting until I left because she didn't want to cry in front of me. That was just _Alex_, and I wouldn't further deplete her dignity by making her do so.

With one last lingering caress, I left the room, going into my bedroom and closing the door. Then, thinking the better of it, I opened it just a crack. I could hear her quiet sobs as soon as she realized I was gone, and they broke my heart.

I couldn't sleep. I lay in bed for hours, listening to her cry and knowing there was nothing I could do to ease her pain.

**Review for chapter fourteen!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm not sure whether I'll be able to update until Sunday or Monday at this point; we're going to New York and not coming back until Sunday, but I may have Internet access or be able to do it on my phone. So we'll see. I'm still disappointed that SVU isn't filming, but still, I'm excited.**

I didn't sleep all night, although Alex did, I think. After a few hours, her sobs subsided and assumed she'd gone to sleep.

Finally, around six, I decided this was a good enough hour to get up. I showered and checked on Alex, who was still sleeping. I jogged across the street to pick up some croissants and fresh orange juice for her because I knew we didn't have any food in the house that she would eat.

By the time I got back, it was a quarter to seven and Alex was still asleep. That was good. She seemed so much more peaceful in her slumber than I'd ever seen her when she was awake.

I brushed a few strands of hair back from her face. She didn't stir, and I sighed before smoothing out her blanket and tucking in the corners. It was almost too intimate a gesture, but Alex was asleep, so it didn't matter. It was really more for my benefit than hers.

I started to tidy up the kitchen, even though it really wasn't all that dirty. Alex was organized almost to the point of compulsiveness and I knew it wouldn't hurt. I threw out the bananas that she considered rotten, even if I would have eaten them anyway. I got rid of the milk that had gone bad yesterday and wiped off the counter and the table.

"Liv?"

I jumped and turned around, relaxing when I saw it was just Alex. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Hey, it's okay. I bought you breakfast."

She took the croissants from me. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"How long have you been up for?" she asked, taking a bite of a croissant. "This needs butter," she commented, rummaging around in my fridge.

I made a face. "I didn't go to _sleep_. And if you're looking for butter, we don't have any."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you _eat_?"

"I'm anorexic," I told her seriously. "Or didn't you know?"

"I'm sure you are."

I took a croissant and shoved it in my mouth, nearly choking on it. Alex crossed her arms, watching me half in amusement and half in disdain.

"You ran out of hot water," she informed me.

I groaned. "Wonderful."

She gave me her most winsome smile. "So I guess you're not showering this morning."

I rolled my eyes. "The things I do for you."

"Mm hm," she said noncommittally. "Nothing's going to be open for another hour or so. Since you're not showering, do you want to play chess?"

I considered. Alex always won when we played chess – that logical, majorly brilliant mind at work, I guess. But she seemed happier this morning and she was making a request, so I didn't mind. "Sure."

She smiled, neatly finishing off her croissant and rummaging around for my chess game. When she found it, she wrinkled her nose in disapproval. "It's covered in _dust_."

I shrugged. "Sorry about that. But you're the only one I ever play chess with it."

"Chess exercises your frontal lobe," she lectured.

"So _that's _why I constantly make rash decisions and end up in deep trouble," I said sarcastically.

She smirked. "No, that's because you don't weigh potential consequences against potential benefits, not because you don't _realize _the potential consequences themselves."

I scratched my head. "Isn't that the same thing?"

"No, it's not."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's play."

* * *

She won, as usual. And she was a sore winner, as usual. "You're rusty from lack of frontal lobe use," she told me.

I sighed. "Could you be any more obnoxious?"

"I'm sure I could be if I so desired."

"That was rhetorical."

She smiled. "You ready to go?"

She seemed so much _better _today. I couldn't get over it, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Let me grab my coat."

**Review for chapter fifteen!**


	15. Chapter 15

She found an apartment and sold the house, and I helped her move in. We were friends again, and she was okay.

Well, mostly. Alex called me one night around three in the morning, crying so hard she could barely speak. "Liv," was all I could decipher.

"Calm down, sweetie," I soothed. "I can't understand you when you're crying. Take a deep breath and start again."

She tried, but then she burst into a fresh round of sobbing. "Liv – I – I – the – he –" And then there was just incoherent mumbling.

"Okay, honey. I'll be right there. Try to calm down. Deep breaths, okay?"

I hung up and threw on a pair of jeans and one of my NYPD sweatshirts. I jumped in the car and put on the police siren, even though I knew I really shouldn't and I could get into huge trouble for doing so. But I wanted to make sure Alex was okay.

I got there within minutes and hightailed it to her apartment. I knocked on the door, but Alex didn't answer. I used my own key and let myself in.

I could hear soft sobs that seemed to be coming from the bedroom. I followed the sound and opened the door to find Alex curled up on the bed, shaking, rocking back and forth as she cried.

I gave her a once over, but I found no cuts or bruises or anything physically wrong with her. So I ran to her and sat down beside her on the bed, wrapping my arms around her. Her hair was damp and I figured she'd just gotten out of the shower. She flinched as I did so, but attempted to quiet her sobs, looking up at me through frightened cerulean eyes.

I hugged her tightly, trying to alleviate her trembling. "What happened, honey? What's wrong? Talk to me."

She just shook her head, leaning against me as she wept.

"Did you have a bad dream?" I asked softly.

She shook her head again, and I couldn't tell whether or not she was telling the truth. I gently rubbed her back, and she gradually quieted in my embrace. When she was calm enough to speak, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you."

I pulled her closer to me. "No, it's okay, honey. Tell me what happened."

"I had a flashback," she said quietly. "I had a bad dream and then I felt dirty . . . so dirty. So I got in the shower and then – I don't know what happened. I had a flashback and all I could feel was _him_ and it hurt so much and I was so scared and –" She stopped and took a deep breath. "I – I think I blacked out because I woke up and I didn't know where I was and I thought I was back there and –" She faltered, trying to compose herself. "I just got scared. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you."

"No, sweetie, it's okay. You did the right thing by calling me. You can always call me if you get scared or have a nightmare or a flashback or even if you just need some company. It's okay."

Alex exhaled shakily. "I think I'm okay now. I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's okay." I hugged her tightly. "Why don't I stay over tonight, just in case?"

"No, I think I'll be okay."

I suppressed my smirk. "That was rhetorical. Let me rephrase. I'm _going _to stay over tonight, just in case."

"You're so stubborn. Luckily, so am I."

"I can outlast you," I told her. Actually, I probably couldn't, but I knew she really did want me to stay and her defenses were wearing thin. She just wanted to keep her dignity intact.

She sighed. "I'm not really in the mood to argue right now."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Not in the mood to argue right now? _You_?"

"I'm tired. I need to be ready to deal with a bunch of cocky ADAs who think they know more than I do tomorrow."

"Well, you were a cocky ADA who thought you knew better than everyone once upon a time."

"That was different. I actually _did _know better than everyone."

"Hate to break it to you, hon, but you didn't. Remember when Petrovsky locked you up when you told her that she wasn't allowing you to manipulate her courtroom to suit your needs and you actually _threatened _her?"

"That _was_ a bit stupid," Alex admitted. "But who we charge is really at the DA's discretion, not a judge's."

"Hey, deep down Petrovsky has a soft spot for you."

"_Very _deep down."

"And Donnelly had to get Lewin to bail you out."

"I hated Lewin," commented Alex.

"Me, too," I agreed. "But you only hated her because she chewed you out for nearly every decision you made."

"She was a bleeding heart. What can I say? I'm more liberal than some, but I also believe in accountability. She liked excuses, I liked facts. I believe in punishment when somebody commits a crime. I don't understand how someone who sees what we see on a daily basis _can't _believe that."

I shrugged. "Who knows? Honestly, who cares? Let's get you into bed."

"Are you propositioning me, Detective?"

I laughed. "You wish. Because I'm just _that _gorgeous."

"And you're just _that _modest, too."

"True, true," I agreed, allowing myself a small smile.

She yawned, which was just about the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. In that puppy dog or newborn baby kind of cute. Alex Cabot doesn't _yawn_. Ever. "Whatever, Liv. I'm going to bed."

"Would you like me to tuck you in?" I asked sweetly.

She rolled her eyes. "I think I'll pass."

"Okay, fine. I'll be out here on the couch."

"Liv?" She looked right into my eyes and said seriously, "Thanks."

I patted her shoulder. "Don't mention it."

She gave me a wan smile before retreating to her bedroom.

And it was almost as if things were back to the way they had been, the way they were years ago. The light banter and the just-this-side-of-appropriate jokes. I'd missed it.

**Review for chapter sixteen!**


	16. Chapter 16

I slept on Alex's couch and even though I woke up in the morning with a stiff neck, it was worth it. Not that she really needed me – she didn't have any nightmares or flashbacks or anything – but I knew it made her feel safe and comforted that I was there. Which was why I'd stayed to begin with.

She woke me up in the morning, shaking my shoulders until I opened my eyes. "You're due in court in an hour," she told me.

I sat up straight. "Shit!"

She grinned like a cat. "Luckily, we have both hot water _and _food."

We didn't mention last night. That was just how it was with us – we never spoke of such things again, although the words were in the air anyway, and we both heard them. Ghosts and shadows floating between us.

* * *

Life went on. We got together on Fridays like we used to, lounging on her couch and sipping cocktails, watching comedies that weren't really funny until the third or fourth drink. We laughed about her subordinates and their antics, the messes that they made and she ended up cleaning up. I reminded her that she'd done the same thing when she was an ADA, and she rolled her eyes and said, "Don't remind me!"

She was getting better, mostly. Occasionally she had a nightmare or a flashback, and if I was lucky, she'd call me and I could go over there and help her through it. But as time went on, they became less and less frequent.

She was back and she was safe, and that was all that mattered.

**I think I'm going to end it here. Review if you enjoyed this story!**


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